


Call It Anything But Love

by nefarioustortellini



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: "platonic" friends, Bellamy is a Gryffindor, Bellarke, Clarke is a Slytherin, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Humour, Idiots in Love, Literally EVERYONE Ships It, Miller is a drama queen and a smug bastard, Quidditch, i'm such trash, kind of slow burn ish?, lots of married banter, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefarioustortellini/pseuds/nefarioustortellini
Summary: Bellamy Blake can't lie; his life is going pretty well. He's a wizard. He's going to school to learn magic. What could be better?Of course, there is the small matter of the irritating Slytherin girl in his year. But he can handle her.(Probably.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hogwarts AU because I was re-reading the HP books and started getting feelings again, and my brain was like "hey how about bellarke"  
> Hope you enjoy! Comments and kudos provide me with self-worth  
> Title from "Distance" by Christina Perri

The letter comes on a misty Friday morning in July. Octavia always races to dig through the mail, looking for anything that might have her name on it, and in the midst of tossing envelopes aside she suddenly stops, carefully inspects one with interest.

“What?” Bellamy asks, leaning his elbows on the table. “Something finally came for you?”

“No…” She slides the letter across to him, frowning slightly. “For you.”

Bellamy stiffens and reaches for the envelope. He can’t remember the last time a letter came in that was addressed to him. He doesn’t even know if there ever was a first time. But there his name is, printed across the envelope in bold black lettering: MR B. BLAKE. Unmistakable. 

“Well?” Octavia comes over to peer over his shoulder. “Are you gonna open it?”

He hesitates, for just a second, wondering if he should wait for their mother. But the thought disappears as quickly as it came. He learned a long time ago that it was rarely worth it to wait for Aurora Blake.

It’s held shut with a wax seal, so Bellamy slides a thumb underneath the flap and pulls the seal away. A neatly folded letter tumbles out onto the table, and Octavia grabs it before he can.

“Hey!” Bellamy protests, reaching for it, but Octavia dances away from him, scanning the words on the thick parchment paper. She’s a good reader, especially for an eight-year-old, and her eyes grow bigger and bigger as they move across the page.

“Bell, you’re not gonna believe this!”

He makes a grab for it. “Give it, O!”

“Listen,” she instructs, holding up a finger. “ _’Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—‘”_

“ _What_?” Bellamy exclaims, and finally manages to yank the letter out of her hands, finding that Octavia hadn’t misread. Like hers, his eyes grow big as he reads the whole thing, and then goes limp. The letter slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor.

“I’m a wizard,” he whispers, and Octavia grins.

“Hey, when you visit, can you bring me back a broomstick?”

***

King’s Cross station is every bit as busy and confusing as Bellamy was expecting, maybe more so. He’s never taken the train before, not on his own, and he’s a little nervous. But he’s even more nervous about leaving an eight-year-old Octavia home alone with his mother.

“Stick with me,” he tells her, tightening his grip on her hand. Aurora walks a short distance behind them, shoulders hunched, glancing around at all the people bustling past.

“I want to explore, Bell,” Octavia protests, tugging on his fingers, but he keeps her firmly by his side. He’s not letting her go in a place like this. She’d take off and vanish within two seconds.

“Bellamy.” Aurora leans down to his height, lowering her voice. “Where’s the platform?”

“It’s supposed to be nine and three quarters,” Bellamy murmurs back. “In Diagon Alley they said—”

His voice trails off as he catches sight of two kids his age, a boy and a girl, with carts full of luggage like his. The boy playfully shoves the girl forward, and she takes off at a sprint toward a brick barrier between platforms 9 and 10. As in, she is running straight at the wall and showing no signs of stopping. Instinctively, Bellamy opens his mouth to shout at her to stop, but his words freeze in his mouth when he sees both the cart of luggage and the girl disappear.

Octavia’s hand goes limp in his. “Did you see that?” she hisses, and all Bellamy can do is nod weakly. That was magic. It had to have been magic.

The boy starts to run too, just like the girl did, but before he can, Octavia pulls free of Bellamy’s grip and dashes up to him, tapping his arm. “Hey, are you going to Hogwarts?” she asks brightly, and the boy’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Suppressing a sigh, Bellamy jogs up behind his sister. “O, I said not to let go of my hand,” he says, sharper than he meant to, and reaches for her again, wincing apologetically at the boy. Aurora materializes behind him, eyeing the boy cautiously, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You’re headed to Hogwarts, too?” the boy asks Bellamy, leaning on his cart. “First year?”

“Yeah,” he answers, hesitant.

“What happened to that girl?” Octavia interjects. “She ran into the wall.”

A smirk slowly grows on the boy’s face. “Well, yeah. That’s how you get to the platform.”

“You… run into a wall,” Bellamy deadpans, glancing uncertainly at the barrier. The boy nods.

“It’s a little scary if you’ve never done it before. Here, I’ll go first, and you follow right behind. Okay?”

“Okay!” Octavia chirps, ready and willing as always.

“Wait.” Aurora puts one hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and the other on Octavia’s. “Octavia, we should say goodbye here. I don’t think Muggles should be on this platform.”

Octavia protests, of course, and Aurora loses patience quickly, which means that an embarrassed Bellamy has to take over while the other boy looks on quietly. “O, it’s fine. I’ll see you at Christmas, okay? And I’ll bring you back something. I promise.”

Mollified but still pouting, Octavia gives him a hug and then Aurora leads her away, disappearing into the throngs of people at the station. Bellamy turns back to the boy. “Alright, lead the way.”

The boy nods. “Just do what I do.”

With that, he turns, faces the barrier, and breaks into a run toward it. Bellamy doesn’t hesitate. He follows right on the boy’s heels, shutting his eyes just before the contact, half-expecting to crash into the bricks…

But the collision never happens. Instead, he eases to a stop and opens his eyes. People in robes, pointed hats, with owls and toads and wands are milling about, many of them kids with luggage carts just like his. The boy is standing next to him, smirking, and beside him is the girl from before.

“Close your mouth before something flies into it,” the girl comments, and Bellamy manages to put a hold on his awe. “You’ve never seen the platform before?”

“No,” Bellamy says, slowly turning around, taking everything in. “Muggle-born.”

“You get used to it,” she says off-handedly. “I’m Raven Reyes, by the way. This is Nathan Miller—”

“Just Miller,” the boy interrupts, shooting Raven a look. “And I never got your name.”

“Uh… Bellamy,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Bellamy Blake.”

Raven nods and then starts off toward the train. “Come on, let’s get a compartment before they’re all taken.”

And that’s how it happens. As simple and as quick as that, Bellamy has friends.

***

Bellamy’s first encounter with Clarke Griffin happens at the Sorting Ceremony.

He, Miller, and Raven find a compartment near the back and settle in right away, chatting easily. Already he likes them. They’re both first years, like him, and neither of them have been to Hogwarts before, but they’ve heard all the stories that he hasn’t, and he eagerly listens to everything they have to tell. Raven is telling a wild tale about a giant squid when her gaze shifts to something over Bellamy’s shoulder and she stops in the middle of a sentence.

“What?” Miller demands, twisting around to see what the issue is, and immediately sighs. “Oh, come on, Raven. It’s not even a big deal.”

“What isn’t?” Bellamy cranes his neck to see past Miller’s head and catches sight of two other kids just outside their compartment – a boy and a girl, both already wearing their robes. The girl is short and blonde, her chin lifted haughtily. The boy looks milder, a good deal taller than her, with a soft face and a buzzcut. They pass by the compartment, apparently discussing something in depth.

“Who are they?” Bellamy asks, turning back to the others. Raven lifts her eyebrow and leans back while Miller just rolls his eyes.

“Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha,” Miller explains. “First years, like us.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing,” Miller says pointedly. “Raven just has a grudge against them because they’re pureblood, rich, and famous.”

“They’re stuck-up,” Raven mutters, looking out the window. “Only ever talk to each other.”

“I don’t see you starting any conversations with them,” Miller shoots back. Raven rolls her eyes.

“Just because your family is close with theirs—”

“Hold on,” Bellamy interrupts. “Famous?”

Miller shrugs. “Well, their parents are famous. Clarke’s mom, Abigail Griffin, is one of the best Healers in the Wizarding World. And Wells’ dad was Minister of Magic for a while. The Jahas and the Griffins are pretty high up.”

His gaze shifts to Raven. “But Clarke and Wells are actually okay. Raven’s just petty—”

“You’re just saying that because you’re probably going to be in Slytherin with Clarke.” Raven slumps back in her seat.

“Well, I need at least one friend in Slytherin if I’m gonna be stuck with Murphy too,” Miller mumbles, crossing his arms.

“Who’s Murphy?” Bellamy asks, which prompts a groan from Raven as Miller launches into a story, and for the moment, Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha are forgotten.

That is, until the Sorting Ceremony.

Bellamy hadn’t really let himself wonder which house he’d be in. He honestly doesn’t care. He’s in _wizard school._ There isn’t much that bothers him at the moment.

Headmaster Kane calls all the first years together and explains the Ceremony, but Bellamy hardly hears a word of it. He’s busy staring in awe at the grandeur of the castle, completely awed by the magic of it all. But an elbow in his ribs draws him out of his stupor.

“Hey,” hisses a sharp female voice. “You might want to pay attention. This is important.”

With a start, Bellamy realizes it’s the blonde girl from the train, Clarke Griffin. Close up, she looks younger, with round cheeks and wide blue eyes. Two strands of her hair are twisted and pulled back around her head like a crown. Her face is proud but somehow sweet at the same time.

Her tone, however, is anything _but_ sweet, and Bellamy feels a stab of resentment at being nagged by a girl his own age, if that. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do, Princess,” he snaps back without thinking and immediately regrets it when her eyes narrow sharply.

“Have it your way.” She turns away, inching closer to her friend from the train – Wells, Bellamy remembers. He gives Bellamy a strange look and then leans down to whisper something to Clarke, who rolls her eyes and pointedly doesn’t look at Bellamy.

“Single file, please!” Kane is shouting all of a sudden, and the doors to the Great Hall are opening, and then they’re standing there in front of the entire school, all eyes on them.

Bellamy hears muffled noise, staring wide-eyed at the vast number of students crowded into the hall, and then snaps out of it when he hears, “Blake, Bellamy!” Uncertainly, he steps forward, heading for the stool at the front of the hall. Kane lowers a large wrinkled hat onto his head.

“My, my, now this is interesting,” someone mutters, and with a start Bellamy realizes it’s the hat. “You’ve got quite the brain here. Plenty of bravery, and no shortage of intelligence… and oh, yes, loyalty. You’d do anything for the people you care about, wouldn’t you?”

Bellamy thinks of Octavia immediately. _Yes. Anything._

“You’re a leader,” the hat muses. “That is certainly clear. Selfless. Noble and righteous. You’re a tricky one, but I think you’ve got to be _Gryffindor!”_

The hat shouts the last word, and the Gryffindor table goes wild. Dumbfounded, Bellamy goes to join them, sliding in between two older girls, and scans the rest of the first years for Miller and Raven. Before they get their turn, though, “Griffin, Clarke” is declared a Slytherin and “Jaha, Wells” a Hufflepuff. After them, Miller is put into Slytherin with Clarke and Raven is made a Ravenclaw.

When the ceremony ends, Bellamy follows the other Gryffindors up to the tower, passing the Slytherin party. Someone slams their shoulder into him as they pass by, and Bellamy sees with no surprise that his assailant is none other than Clarke Griffin. 

“Making friends?” Miller murmurs in his ear, smirking, and Bellamy glares at him. Miller’s smirk only grows wider and he follows the other Slytherins down a different hallway. Bellamy watches the Princess’s blonde head disappear around a corner and sighs quietly.

 _Yeah,_ he thinks, rubbing his shoulder. _Making friends._

***

Bellamy’s second year at Hogwarts yields no different from his first, in that the animosity between him and Clarke hasn’t lessened in the slightest. The Blake-Griffin rivalry becomes something of a legend within the school after the first Quidditch game of the year. Neither of them are on their house team, but even just watching Quidditch brings out a certain competitiveness in both of them. Their shouting match grows louder than even the most enthusiastic fan. It all comes to an end when Clarke finally pulls out her wand and hexes him right then and there, nearly hitting Wells in the process, and before he knows it, Bellamy’s lying in the hospital wing, flanked by Miller and Raven.

“Stinging Hex, huh?” Miller asks, smirking, and Bellamy glares at him.

“Hey, whose side are you on?”

Miller purses his lips and rocks back on his heels, not saying anything. Bellamy huffs and turns his gaze on Raven, who folds her arms. “I mean – I don’t really want to be on Clarke Griffin’s side, but… you did kind of deserve it.”

“Me?” Bellamy struggles to sit up in bed, indignant. “She started it!”

“You sound like a six-year-old,” Raven says flatly. “She might have started it but you’re the one who rose to the bait. And also, you…”

Her eyes cut over to Miller, who is shifting uncomfortably. “What?” Bellamy demands.

Raven’s voice drops, and she inches forward. “You mentioned her dad. ‘Daddy’s spoiled little girl’.”

“She _is_ spoiled,” grumbles Bellamy. “What does her dad have to do with this?”

“Clarke’s dad was executed recently,” a new voice cuts in, making all three of them jump in surprise.

Wells Jaha stands in the doorway, tugging self-consciously at his Hufflepuff scarf. He meets Bellamy’s eyes and bravely moves closer. “He, uh, got kissed by a Dementor not too long ago. He was in Azkaban.”

Bellamy stiffens. Raven and Miller exchange an awkward glance. Wells hesitates for just a moment and then comes even closer. “Here…” He hands Bellamy a small bottle of potion. “This should help with the hex. Don’t worry, it’s from the medicine closet. I didn’t spike it or anything.”

“Um.” Bellamy isn’t sure how to respond. His fingers close tentatively around the bottle. “Thanks.”

Wells nods, eyes flickering briefly to Miller and Raven before speaking again. “I also just… wanted to apologize. For Clarke. I know you don’t like her, but she just jumps to conclusions and overreacts a lot, and she just – she means well. And she feels bad about hexing you.”

“Good to know,” Bellamy answers gruffly. Wells nods again and turns to leave, but before he’s out the door, Bellamy calls, “Hey…” and he stops.

“I’m – I didn’t know about her dad.” Bellamy shifts in the hospital bed uncomfortably. “Can you tell her that?”

Wells opens his mouth to say something but then apparently thinks better of it, pursing his lips and simply nodding before exiting and pulling the door shut behind him.

A short silence ensues before Miller says, “So are you gonna try that potion Clarke gave you?”

Both Raven and Bellamy give him a strange look. “Wells gave him that,” Raven says slowly, and Miller shakes his head firmly.

“I’m in Clarke’ house, remember? The only way to get that potion is to sneak it out of the cabinet, because Professor Jackson doesn’t just give stuff out. Smuggling teachers’ stuff isn’t really something a Hufflepuff would do. It’s a Slytherin move. I would know.”

Miller nods to Raven as Bellamy stares, dumfounded, at the bottle in his hand. They both exit, leaving his head still spinning.

Clarke smuggled him the potion. Clarke, the girl who hexed him and put him here in the first place. The girl who hates him with a passion.

The girl who just lost her father.

For the first time, Bellamy thinks that maybe Clarke Griffin isn’t so stuck-up after all.

***

In the summer after Bellamy’s second year, another letter from Hogwarts arrives at the Blake house, this time addressed to Octavia, who promptly loses her mind with excitement as Bellamy loses his with worry. Hogwarts is _dangerous_. Poltergeists, vicious magical creatures, lethal potions, the Forbidden Forest… and she’ll be wanting to play Quidditch first year, too, because she’s Octavia.

But as worried as he may be, Bellamy knows he doesn’t stand a chance in trying to keep her from this place. If Octavia wants to come, she’s going to come, and Octavia _definitely_ wants to come.

She’s sorted into Gryffindor, which comes as absolutely no surprise, and practically launches herself into Bellamy’s arms upon arrival at the table, laughing in delight. Bellamy pulls her into his side, grinning; her joy is infectious.

Past the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, Bellamy catches sight of Clarke and Miller sitting with the other Slytherins, and realizes with surprise that they’re both looking his way. Clarke taps Miller on the arm, seemingly asking him something. Miller answers nonchalantly, his arms folded over his chest, and Clarke’s gaze returns to Bellamy, piercing even from so far away.

“Who’s that?” Octavia asks, her attention momentarily diverted from the Sorting Ceremony as she peers over Bellamy’s shoulder at Clarke.

“Who?” he asks, playing dumb. He’s mentioned Clarke to her in passing before, on his visits to home, but he doesn’t really want to get into it with O; not here.

Unfortunately, his sister is not one to let things drop. “The girl beside Miller. She was staring at you.”

“Hey, is that Monroe?” Bellamy asks in an attempt to distract O, pointing at the girl now being sorted into Gryffindor. “You know her, don’t you?”

Octavia’s gaze follows Bellamy’s finger and she smiles briefly at her friend before returning her attention to the Slytherin table. All of a sudden, her mouth drops open. “Bell! Is she Clarke Griffin?”

He groans inwardly and forces himself to nod. Octavia studies Clarke and then her eyebrows narrow as a smirk plays on her lips. “You didn’t say she was _pretty_.”

Heat rushes into Bellamy’s cheeks and he prays that it doesn’t show. “Focus!” he hisses to his sister as the Gryffindor prefect glares at them. “We have to be quiet for the ceremony.”

Reluctantly, Octavia moves her eyes away from Clarke and Bellamy breathes a quiet sigh of relief, already planning how he’s going to avoid this topic later. Shockingly, in her excitement to explore Hogwarts, O doesn’t mention Clarke at all once they get up into their common room, and Bellamy can’t believe his luck, which extends into the next few weeks as well.

Octavia quickly befriends two boys, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor named Monty and Jasper respectively, both second-years, and weeks go by without a single Clarke incident. Bellamy hopes fervently that the excitement of being at Hogwarts is enough to distract O from bringing Clarke up again.

Unfortunately, something worse happens. Octavia _meets_ Clarke.

“She’s actually really cool, Bell!” O gushes on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. “She hexed a guy right in the _face_ —”

“Don’t take notes from her,” Bellamy mutters. “You’ll just get detention if you try to hex anyone.”

Octavia winces. “Yeah, Clarke did. Kane was pissed.”

“Okay, hold on.” He puts a hand on O’s shoulder and guides her into a dim corner, out of the way of passing students. “Walk me through this. What exactly happened?”

She sighs, as if just telling the story a second time is some kind of massive hardship. “These fourth-year Slytherin assholes—”

“O,” Bellamy says sharply, and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Slytherin _jerks_ were pushing me around on the way back from flying class, and Clarke saw and stepped in and then they started harassing her, so she got pissed and hexed them both. And then Kane came around the corner and gave her detention and took points from Slytherin. He was really ticked off. I guess this isn’t the first time Clarke’s hexed someone.”

“No, it’s not,” Bellamy murmurs. “She hexed me last year at a Quidditch game.”

Immediately he regrets saying it, because Octavia snorts and tells him bluntly, “I bet you deserved it.”

He hesitates but admits, “Yeah, I kind of did. Anyway, what happened after that?”

“Kane took the boys to the hospital wing and then Clarke asked if I was okay and walked me to Potions. She’s really cool, Bell,” O insists. “I don’t know why you hate her so much.”

“Maybe she’s cool to _you_.” Bellamy shifts his weight, glances down the hallway. “What… what were the boys picking on you for?”

Octavia’s face falls and she drops her head, pursing her lips. A few heavy moments pass before she confesses, “For being Muggle-born.”

His heart sinks. “Look, O, there is nothing wrong with having Muggle parents, okay? _Nothing_. Those boys are just—”

“Bell, I know.” Octavia huffs in frustration. “It just sucks. I’m glad Clarke showed up, though.”

He is, too, although he doesn’t dare say that out loud. They go back to the common room and Bellamy later relays the story to Raven and Miller in The Three Broomsticks.

“Does O know the names of those Slytherins?” Miller asks, scowling. “Cause if I see them around—”

“No.” Bellamy shakes his head. “The Princess hexed them pretty good already. I don’t think they’ll be bothering O again.”

“Speaking of the Princess…” Raven nods over Bellamy’s shoulder to another table, where Clarke is sitting with Wells and Octavia’s Ravenclaw friend, Monty. There’s an open textbook on the table in front of them, but they’re clearly not studying. Clarke is laughing, eyes closed and head thrown back, shoving Monty playfully as Wells looks on with an amused smile.

It occurs to Bellamy that he hasn’t ever seen Clarke laugh – like, _really_ laugh. Not like this.

With a jolt, he realizes he’s staring and turns back to face the other two, who exchange a look that Bellamy doesn’t recognize. “What?”

“You’re so dumb,” Raven mutters, and before Bellamy has a chance to ask her what she means, Miller leans forward.

“She’s right over there. You can go thank her for protecting Octavia.”

Bellamy snorts. “Thank the Princess? Right.”

“Come on, Blake, I’m sick of this stupid feud. If you swallow your pride for a change then maybe we can all start getting along.” Miller pauses – for effect, Bellamy thinks; Miller can be pretty dramatic – and then adds, “Look, she stood up for your sister to members of her own house when she didn’t have to. Just say thank you and maybe you two can pass each other in the halls without a yelling match.”

Bellamy moves his eyes to Raven, who shrugs. “I’m with Miller. The yelling gets to be a bit much.”

“I hate you guys,” he mutters, and pushes back his chair.

Wells is the first to notice Bellamy’s approach, his eyes widening as he nudges Clarke in the side. Bellamy inhales slowly as both Monty and Clarke turn their attention to him. _Don’t be awkward._

He runs a hand through his curls and rocks back on his heels. “Um. Hey.”

Clarke lifts an eyebrow, her face blank, giving away nothing. “Do you need something?”

A biting reply is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it and grates out, “I just – wanted to say thanks.”

Her other eyebrow goes up and she leans back in her chair, clearly surprised. “What for?”

“You stood up for my sister. Octavia. And, uh, you didn’t have to. So, thanks.”

His voice is gruff and a little sharp, and even he winces a little at the harshness of his tone. Clarke doesn’t seem upset by it, though. The corner of her mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to smile. She has a mole just above her upper lip, on the left side.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, and he jerks his eyes up to realize that Monty is talking. “…was your sister,” he’s saying. Unfortunately, Bellamy didn’t catch the first part because he was too busy staring at Clarke Griffin’s freaking _mouth_.

“Oh, uh, yeah. She is my sister,” Bellamy says, and prays that that’s a sufficient response. “Anyway. Thanks for doing that. I appreciate it, and so does O.”

Clarke’s mouth twitches again. “No problem. Tell Octavia that if those guys bother her anymore, I’ll gladly take care of it again.”

“She’s _my_ sister. I can take care of her,” Bellamy snaps, bristling. Clarke’s eyes flash and she opens her mouth to fire off something equally snarky, but Wells cuts in before she can.

“Clarke just means that she’s in the same house as them, so it might be easier for her to talk to them,” he supplies, “don’t you, Clarke?”

The silence is heavy, but finally she mutters, “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Tell Octavia it was no problem.”

Bellamy takes a breath, thinking about what Raven and Miller said. “Look, I didn’t come over to fight. I just wanted to say thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Clarke answers flatly. “And Octavia’s welcome. Is that all?”

Bellamy nods stiffly and strides back to his table. “Wow,” Raven deadpans as he sits down. “You _didn’t_ start screaming at each other. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mumbles and stares down at his Potions essay as if he’s concentrating hard. His friends get the hint and go back to their own homework, speaking quietly to each other about the Herbology assignment. While they work, Bellamy just taps his quill absently against the parchment and tries to force himself to stop thinking about that stupid mole above Clarke’s lip.

***

Fourth year arrives, and with it comes a newfound, tentative friendship between Raven Reyes and Clarke Griffin, much to the surprise of their friends.

“What happened?” a dumbfounded Miller asks in the library, and Raven’s face darkens as she huffs.

“Finn Collins happened.”

Long story short, Raven tells them, Finn is a Muggle who Raven’s known for years – _loved_ for years. When she went to Hogwarts, she’d thought that nothing was going to change between them. Finn thought otherwise, and ended up asking out none other than Clarke Griffin, telling her nothing about Raven, and telling Raven nothing about Clarke. Inevitably, they found out about each other, and decided to join forces against Finn.

“You spent so long hating her, though,” says Miller, but Raven shakes her head.

“I didn’t _hate_ her, I just… had the wrong idea about her.”

Octavia grins and elbows Bellamy. “Like someone else I could name.”

Bellamy groans. “All right, well, great that you all like her now, but Princess has never been that nice around me.”

Miller holds up a finger and opens his eyes wide, as if he’s just gotten a brilliant idea. “Hey! Listen to this: what if you could – hear me out – _not be an asshole to her_? Then maybe you’d get along! Imagine that!”

Raven and Octavia both laugh but Bellamy just rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Nathan.”

“Hey, I was being sarcastic, but I wasn’t actually joking,” Miller points out. “We’re probably gonna be seeing a lot more of Clarke now, so it’d be better for everyone if you pulled your head out of your ass.”

Bellamy sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “ _Fine._ I’ll make an effort.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Raven says, pointing a quill at him. “Because we’re meeting up with Clarke and Wells this weekend at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Can I come?” Octavia chirps, and Bellamy slides down in his chair, wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

Three days later, the four of them are walking into the pub with Jasper and Monty both in tow (Octavia had insisted upon bringing them along), and join Clarke and Wells at a table, and… it actually isn’t bad. There’s a bit of friction at the beginning – Clarke gives Bellamy such a blatant look of disdain as he sits down that he spits out, “Hey, Princess,” without thinking.

She scoffs a little and shoots back, “Hey, asshole,” and Jasper leaps to his feet, clapping his hands dramatically over Octavia’s ears.

“Watch your language! There are _young ears_ present,” he shouts, and then tension shatters as they all laugh.

Bellamy stays quiet for the most part, watching everyone interact. Monty, Jasper, and Octavia joke around like the Three Stooges while Clarke and Miller tease one another like they’ve known each other since childhood – which they actually have, Bellamy realizes. Wells makes occasional quiet remarks under his breath to Raven, making her laugh and softening her face in a way that Bellamy’s never seen before.

He’s starting to feel a little out of place, actually, until Clarke makes some kind of offhand comment about Potions class and he disagrees with her just because he feels like it, which sets her off on a long rant that includes a lot of hand-waving and head-shaking.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” he says, lifting his hands, “do we really _need_ to have those competitions in class? Like, does Professor Nyko just want—”

Clarke scoffs, cutting him off. “Please. You’re just saying that because you’ve never won.”

“Hey, I’ve actually won twice, for your information, and I’m saying it because I think it just pits everyone against each other when we should be learning teamwork and cooperation—”

“Oh, this coming from the guy who checked all the books on Flobberworms out of the library because I was doing a project on them.” Clarke leans forward on her elbows, quirking an eyebrow. “Sounds like _someone’s_ pretty competitive.”

Her voice drips with sarcasm – which is not uncommon when she talks to him – but it doesn’t feel as hostile as it normally does. It’s the same tone of voice she uses when ribbing Miller or Wells about something, so Bellamy assumes it must be fine to keep arguing. After all, neither Raven nor Octavia has yelled at him yet, logically so he must be doing okay.

“All right, fine,” he concedes. “But _that_ was for Care of Magical Creatures. Potions class is different.”

“Yeah, because you’re bad at Potions,” she points out. “You can handle the competition anywhere else, but in Potions you’re all _‘teamwork’_ and _‘cooperation’_ …”

She lowers her voice, mimicking him, and Bellamy has to try really, really hard not to grin.

“I told you, I’ve won twice!”

“That would be because you were partnered with Bryan, who actually knows what he’s doing. Do _you_ know what that feels like, Bellamy?” Miller calls from across the table, spurring a bright laugh from Clarke that absolutely does not make Bellamy’s heart speed up in any way.

He points an accusing finger at his friend. “Don’t encourage her, Nathan! Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Miller shrugs, smirking. “Hey, I’m a Slytherin, remember? We’re friends, Blake, but you gotta stick with your house mates at the end of the day, right?”

Clarke reaches across for a fist bump, and Bellamy leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes overdramatically.

So they’re bickering; sure, and they have been for most of the night, but the strange thing is that it doesn’t feel necessarily hostile, not like their usual arguments. It actually feels… familiar. Friendly, even.

Not that he’s about to call Clarke Griffin his friend. But when he leaves the pub with Octavia, he has to admit that he’s not going to be so quick to call her “Princess” anymore, either.

***

Miller was right when he said they’d be seeing a lot more of Clarke. And where Clarke is, Wells usually is too, so their friend group ends up expanding by two people instead of one. Since they’re all in different houses, the group usually meets in the library or in Hogsmeade until Monty and Jasper stumble across the Room of Requirement looking for somewhere to hide from Professor Jackson after stealing a certain type of medicine from his cabinet. From then on, the Room becomes their drop-in place when a few of them have a free period.

In spending so much time together, Bellamy and Clarke are slowly starting to get used to each other. Bellamy got used to Wells pretty quickly – it’s basically impossible to dislike Wells – but it doesn’t come quite so easily with Clarke. She has a lot of pride, and Bellamy does too, which can make it difficult for them to put their differences aside. But they’ve been trying. For the sake of their friends, of course.

One day he’s sitting in the Room alone, reading, when she bursts in, greets him with a brief nod, and snatches a thick book off one of the shelves.

Bellamy rises and ambles over, curious. “Why the rush?”

“I’m looking for a certain jinx to use on Murphy,” she mutters, flipping through the pages at lightning speed. “He called you and Octavia a derogatory term, and he’s gonna pay.”

Bellamy’s heart jumps in surprise. “You’re defending our honour?”

“Of course,” Clarke says absently, as if it’s no big deal. As if she does it every day.

Maybe she does, Bellamy realizes. He’d have no way of knowing.

“I’m sure you’d like to jinx him yourself,” Clarke continues, tracing a finger down the page, “but he’s in the Slytherin common room, and you can’t get in. So it’s up to me.” She slams the book closed and shoves it into Bellamy’s arms. “Got it. See you at dinner!”

In a flash, she’s gone, the door slamming closed behind her, and Bellamy feels a smile tug at his mouth. It’s times like these that make him see how he and Clarke really could work as friends.

***

In fifth year, Bellamy tries out for Quidditch and makes the Gryffindor team as Keeper, alongside Octavia, who’s a Chaser. He’s pretty happy about it until he finds out that Clarke is on the Slytherin team as Chaser, and that they play Slytherin next week as the first match of the year.

“Clarke is going to make this hell for me,” he complains to Octavia as they change into their uniforms, and she grins.

“Of course she is. She’s Clarke. And you’re you. Don’t act like you’re not gonna love it.”

“What?” Bellamy asks, taken aback, but Octavia’s already out on the pitch, and he has to jog to catch up with her. They congregate with the rest of the Gryffindor team and watch as the Slytherins make their way onto the pitch. Clarke smirks at the Blakes as she passes by, and while Octavia smirks back, all Bellamy can do is blink and stare at her. Her hair is pulled back into a braid instead of her usual crown style, presumably to get it out of her face while she’s flying. It makes her look… different. Older.

“Bell!” Octavia hisses, and he snaps out of it. “Stop gawking at Clarke and focus!”

“What? I’m – I’m not—”

The whistle blows, cutting him off, and everyone mounts their brooms.

As predicted, of course, Clarke makes his life as Keeper miserable. She shoots at him every chance she gets, grinning smugly, and unfortunately, she has good aim. Slytherin is ahead by forty points about twenty minutes into the game when Sterling, the Gryffindor Seeker, gives a shout, drawing everyone’s attention.

He’s neck-and-neck with the Slytherin Seeker, chasing after the Snitch, and Bellamy is so distracted by them that he forgets to watch where he’s flying, and out of nowhere he slams hard into someone. They both topple off their brooms and collapse in the grass in a heap.

“Ow,” a female voice groans, and Bellamy opens his eyes to see none other than Clarke lying on her back underneath him. He realizes he’s lying half on top of her, one hand on either side of her head, his face hovering just a few inches above hers.

Clarke’s eyes flutter open and widen when she realizes it’s him, her mouth dropping open like she’s going to say something, but nothing comes out.

Her cheeks are flushed and the hair that’s come loose from her braid is sticking to her face, but she doesn’t brush it away. She just stares up at him, breathing shallow. Unbidden, Bellamy’s eyes drop from hers down to that mole by her lip, and then down to her lips themselves…

Someone grabs his shoulder and yanks him off of her, pulling him to his feet, shouting gleefully. Only now does he hear the cheers and applause of everyone in the stands. “We won!” Sterling is shouting in his ear, holding up the Snitch triumphantly. The rest of the Gryffindor team sprints over, jumping and yelling. Carefully, Bellamy inches away from them and sees Clarke still on the ground, sitting up now, watching the Gryffindors celebrate. He offers her a hand and she grabs it after a pause, letting him help her up.

“You okay?”

She nods, grinning. “Fine. Maybe watch where you’re flying next time, though.”

“Right, yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

Clarke’s smile gentles. “Good game.” Her voice is soft, without even a trace of hostility.

“Yeah.” He feels so awkward; why does he feel so _awkward?_ “Hey, you d—”

Someone grabs his elbow and yanks him away from her, into the throng of celebrating Gryffindors, and his sentence cuts off. Clarke laughs behind him, fond, and something tugs deep in his chest.

Later in the common room, Octavia calls him pathetic, and he pretends he doesn’t know what she means.

***

Clarke is sprawled across the couch in the Room of Requirement when he stalks in, slamming the door behind him. She jumps at the sharp noise and sits up, studying him. “What’s wrong?”

Bellamy huffs, pushes her feet out of the way so he can plop down on the couch beside her. “Fucking Professor Sydney, that’s what’s wrong.”

Clarke’s face twists into a scowl at the mention of the Divination professor. “What’d she do this time?”

“Wouldn’t let me touch the crystal ball when she let everyone else,” he mutters. “Said if I touched it, it’d lose its power.” He leans his head back against the cushions and closes his eyes. “ _’Oh, Mr. Blake, perhaps you shouldn’t. The crystal responds to what’s inside a wizard, you know, and it’s important to have magic blood…’_ ”

Clarke winces. Professor Diana Sydney is known among the school for her prejudice against Muggle-borns, and Bellamy is the only Muggle-born Gryffindor in his year, making him an easy target. “What an asshole.”

“You’re telling me,” Bellamy sighs. “I can’t wait until I can drop Divination next year.”

“Do you want me to hex her?” Clarke offers, smiling a little. “I’ve had a lot of practice on Murphy.”

He laughs, shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll survive. I’ve been dealing with this shit since first year. If she bothers Octavia, though, then feel free.”

“Duly noted.” Clarke keeps her eyes on him, her face soft. “Do you want to play chess or something?”

She’s terrible at chess, but Bellamy loves it, and it warms his heart that she’d even consider suggesting it. “No. I just kinda want to sit for a while. Stew in my rage,” he says, trying for a joke, but the frustration in his tone makes it fall a little flat. He _really_ hates Professor Sydney.

Clarke nods, and Bellamy closes his eyes again, releasing a long breath through his nose. A short moment passes before he feels a soft warmth and pressure on his shoulder, and he opens one eye to see Clarke’s head tucked into him. His heart jumps unexpectedly and before he really thinks about what he’s doing, he leans his cheek on top of her head. Her flyaway hairs are tickling his face, and he breathes in slowly, trying desperately to make his heart calm down.

“Thanks,” he tells her, so quiet he’s not even sure if she heard it at first, but then she shifts a little closer and nods a bit.

“We’re friends, Bellamy. This is what we do.”

 _Friends,_ he thinks, turning the word over in his head. He likes the sound of it.

(They sit like that for a long time until Miller and Octavia walk in on them and their jaws drop. Both of them are insufferable about it for _days_ afterward.)

***

The only good part of sixth-year Potions class is that Bellamy has it with the Slytherins, so he can spend the entire class making faces at Miller and Clarke from across the room instead of, you know, actually paying attention. Today, Nyko announces that they’ll be trying their hand at brewing Amortentia, and Bellamy tries not to groan out loud. This is one of the most difficult ones to brew, and he’s already shit at Potions to begin with.

He gets paired with Bryan, one of the Gryffindor Beaters, who fortunately is much better at Potions than Bellamy is, and sees with envy that Miller and Clarke have managed to nab one another as partners. High chance that they’ll win best potion.

He and Bryan get busy, carefully following the instructions in the book. He really wants to beat Clarke, because then he’ll be able to tease her about it, and her face will get all scrunched and up and red and she’ll start sassing him like no tomorrow. It’ll be great.

Bryan drops in the last ingredient into the cauldron and steps back to let Bellamy stir. “Let me know if you smell anything.”

Bellamy leans over it as he carefully stirs, seeing a light blue mist rising from the cauldron, and inhales deeply. Lavender… he thinks that’s lavender. Grass, and… paint?

 _Paint_ , he realizes as his eyes widen, like the paint that is almost always splattered across Clarke’s robes. Grass, like the field that they toppled into together at the Quidditch game last year. Lavender, like Clarke’s shampoo; what he smells whenever she leans her head on him.

Clarke Griffin. He takes another whiff and his head starts to spin. Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world, smells like _Clarke Griffin_ to him.

This can’t be right.

“Is it done?” Bryan comes to stand next to him and sniffs the mist. Bellamy glances across the room at Miller and Clarke, who are frowning down at their cauldron.

“We did it wrong,” he hears Clarke say, her cheeks bright red. “Something’s wrong.”

Miller shakes his head. “We followed the directions perfectly. It’s right, Clarke.”

“Yeah? What do you smell?”

Bellamy sees Miller’s eyebrows lift, and then he elbows Clarke gently. “None of your business, Griffin. What do _you_ smell that makes you think it’s wrong?”

If possible, Clarke’s cheeks turn an even deeper red. “I, uh, just don’t recognize the – the smells,” she says, her voice dropping so low that Bellamy has to strain to hear her.

Miller snorts. “Yeah, I bet. You know what I think?” He leans back against the table and says something too low for Bellamy to hear. Clarke punches his upper arm, hisses something under her breath, and Miller grins, turns back to the potion.

“Nate,” Clarke says at her normal volume, although her voice does sound a bit shaky, “I’m telling you, we did something wrong. This is not how it’s supposed to smell.”

“You can keep telling yourself that,” Miller answers absently, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Hey, Professor Nyko? Is this Amortentia correct?”

Nyko ambles over to their table and takes a whiff from their cauldron. Clarke is looking on nervously, Miller smugly.

“Yes, this is actually very well done,” Nyko confirms, and Miller turns to Clarke with a shit-eating grin. Bellamy feels a grin spread across his own face at her disgruntled expression.

“Hey Bellamy?”

Bellamy jumps, startled, and turns to see Bryan looking at him with raised eyebrows. “If you’re done gazing at Clarke, do you wanna ask Nyko if we did it right?”

“Oh, I’m – I’m not gazing at Clarke; I’m, uh, just trying to…” His voice trails off and even he winces at how those words sound. “You know what, yeah. Let’s ask Nyko.”

Bryan’s smirk grows and he goes to get the professor. Bellamy risks another glance across the room at Clarke and his heart skips – actually _skips a beat_ , he always thought that was just a cliché saying – when he sees that she’s already looking his way.

Shit. This Amortentia thing is really going to mess things up.

***

Seventh year finally rolls around, and with it comes a sense of danger. According to Headmaster Kane, some of the Dementors of Azkaban have turned against the Ministry and gone rogue, and now could be anywhere. Students must not travel alone anywhere and are not allowed under any circumstances to leave school grounds.

So, naturally, Octavia comes up with the brilliant idea to leave school grounds.

“You’re not serious,” Miller says when she brings it up in the library. “I mean, you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“There’s something weird about this whole thing,” Octavia insists. “We should investigate.”

“I mean,” Clarke grants, “Octavia’s technically right. There is something suspicious about this. I mean, Dementors don’t just ‘go rogue’.”

“But going into the Forbidden Forest?” Miller asks incredulously. “To seek out a Dementor? Come on, that’s the dumbest idea—”

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna just _tell_ us anything,” Octavia points out.

Jasper nods in agreement. “Yeah, the teachers are gonna be pretty tight-lipped about this. If we want information, we have to get it ourselves.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Please. I see right through you two. You’re _Gryffindors_. You just want an adventure.”

Octavia crosses her arms. “Well, don’t you?”

“I want to live to see my next birthday.”

“I second that,” Wells pipes up. “O, you don’t understand. A Dementor is _not_ something you want to come face-to-face with.”

“Yeah, but I also do want to find out what’s going on,” says Monty.

Raven huffs. “What, and you think a Dementor’s gonna tell you? Why don’t we try asking something that actually _speaks_ , like a teacher, instead of going to get our souls sucked out of our bodies?”

“Alright, listen,” Bellamy breaks in, placing his palms flat on the table. “For the time being, we’re gonna wait this out. Ask around in our houses, see if anyone else knows anything, and gather information that way. See if you can get any teachers to spill on something. And no secret trips to the Forbidden Forest.” He fixes both Octavia and Jasper with a firm look. “That’s all we can do right now.”

The rest of the group grudgingly agrees and they all break off to go to their respective classes. Bellamy breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that Octavia didn’t balk.

Clarke lingers behind, her fingers brushing against his sleeve. “Yeah, that whole ‘no secret forest visits’ thing? That applies to you, too.”

He sputters, shaking his head. “What? No, I’m not going to go into—”

“Bellamy. You’re a Gryffindor, and if there’s a threat to your sister in any way, you’re gonna want to take care of it.” Clarke steps a little closer, holding his gaze. “But trust me. Wells is right. Facing a Dementor is serious business.”

“Right,” Bellamy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, yeah, I got it, but… purely hypothetically, if one were to somehow just _come across_ a Dementor…”

Clarke sighs and rolls back on her heels. “Yeah, I thought so. Come on, Bellamy; you’re brave, but you’re not stupid. Just let the Ministry deal with this one, okay?”

“ _Hypothetically_ , Clarke.”

She gives him a look, and he lifts his palms in surrender. “Look, I just want to be prepared. Just in case. I promise I’m not going to go out there.”

“Really?” She folds her arms, lifting an eyebrow, and he gives in.

“I’m not going to go out there _without a good reason_ ,” he corrects, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Patronus charm.”

“Patronus…” Bellamy’s eyes narrow. “We haven’t even covered that yet. How do you know – you know what, I don’t care. Just tell me how to do it.”

“It’s really not that simp—” Clarke stops herself, rethinks, and then says, “Okay, look. The thing about Dementors is that they kind of suck all the happiness and life out of you—”

“Yikes.”

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, to get rid of them, you have to concentrate on a happy memory – which will be a lot harder when you’re faced with an actual Dementor, by the way – and you should be able to produce a Patronus. It takes the shape of a certain animal.”

Bellamy frowns. “I feel like there’s more to it than that.”

“There is. But that’s all I’m telling you.”

“ _What_?” He grins, moves forward a bit. “Don’t you want me to be able to defend myself?”

“I don’t want you to _have_ to,” she answers bluntly, holding his gaze, and then Bellamy sees a paint stain on her collar, and his heart was already beating fast enough but when he remembers the Amortentia it ratchets up to about three times the speed.

She’s suddenly looking a little flushed, too, and reaches down to gather her books, avoiding his eyes. “We’re both late for class. We should go.”

“Right! Right, yeah, we’re gonna lose house points if we don’t…” Bellamy scrambles to get his things together. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Dinner. Yeah, dinner; see you then,” she answers, her voice suddenly breathless, and then she’s gone, leaving behind the scent of her lavender shampoo as she hurries away, and Bellamy is so, so screwed.

***

He should’ve known.

Well, he actually kind of did know. But that just makes it worse, because then he should have been able to stop it.

It’s 2:14 in the morning, and Octavia is nowhere to be found. She is gone, her wand is gone, her jacket and shoes are gone, and Jasper is also gone. Which can only mean one thing.

They went to the Forbidden Forest looking for Dementors. At _night_.

“Just because you’re in Gryffindor doesn’t mean you have to be stupid,” Bellamy mutters to himself as he descends the staircase toward the Slytherin common room. A pair of fifth-year girls are standing outside the door with Professor Indra, who appears to be lecturing them for something. Bellamy hangs back, ducking into the shadows.

Indra finishes her tirade and heads back upstairs, not even glancing in his direction. Before the common room door can close behind the two girls, Bellamy rushes forward, pulling it back open, and they whirl around in surprise.

“Hey. Hi. I’m Bellamy,” he says, fiddling with his tie. “I’m looking for Clarke Griffin. Or Nathan Miller. Are they… like, could you go in and get one of them, or both, for me, maybe?”

He almost slaps himself for his awkwardness, but thankfully neither one of them comments on it. “You’re not supposed to be down here,” the shorter girl says, voice dripping with contempt.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, but it’s kind of an emergency, and I really need to – I just, can you get Clarke for me?”

“Clarke?” the taller girl asks, sharing a look with her friend. Bellamy feels the blood rush into his cheeks.

“Yeah, I mean – or, or Miller is fine too.”

They try to hide their smirks before nodding and disappearing into the common room. Bellamy shifts his weight anxiously, willing the door to open. It seems like hours have passed before it finally does, and Clarke is standing there, pulling a jacket over her shoulders. “Bellamy?”

“Hi.” He runs a hand through his already disheveled curls and looks at her helplessly. “Octavia and Jasper…”

His voice trails off, but he doesn’t need to say any more. Clarke tucks her wand into the pocket of her jeans and grabs his hand. “Come on. We need to go, now.”

They’re jogging down the halls, heading for the secret passage that Monty and Jasper showed them, when Clarke whispers, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Kane ab—”

“She’s my sister, Clarke. My sister, my responsibility.” They reach the passageway and Bellamy urges Clarke into it. “Besides, if Kane found out that four students were running into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night with Dementors on the loose, we’d be expelled for sure, and I can’t – I can’t have that for her. We don’t really have a backup plan.”

Clarke falls silent, thankfully, and they break out of the passage into the courtyard. “They could be anywhere,” Bellamy murmurs, looking around. “How are we supposed to find them?”

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

“You sw—what?” Bellamy turns to her, confused, but Clarke just taps her wand in the center of a large piece of parchment and Bellamy watches with wide eyes as it transforms into a map of the school.

“It’s Monty and Jasper’s,” she explains, seeing his bewildered expression. “I stole it from Monty’s bag yesterday. Thought it might come in handy.”

His eyes roam over the parchment and snag on Octavia’s name. “There! There she is. And Jasper’s with her. Thank God, they’re still near the edge of the forest.”

“Dead ahead,” Clarke says. “Let’s hope we can get them back in before the Dementors show up.”

Her voice is grim, but Bellamy tries not to overthink it. They sprint toward the trees, wands drawn.

“Damn it, I can’t see anything,” he grumbles. “It’s too fucking dark. _Lumos._ ”

After a moment’s hesitation, Clarke does the same, studying the map carefully. Bellamy speeds up, looking around frantically. “Fuck, where is she? Octavia!”

Clarke grabs his shoulder, her fingers digging into him. “Bellamy! Do you want to draw the Dementors to us?”

“I want to find my sister, Clarke!” He jerks away from her, holding out his wand. “ _Octavia_!”

He catches sight of a dark flash in the corner of his eye, and his entire body goes cold. Clarke inches closer to him, pressing her arm against his, and he tries to focus on her warmth.

His wand arm starts to feel heavy, dropping down to his side. All his energy seems to drain from him, all the feeling and emotion leaking out. Something presses harder into him and he manages to turn his head to the side and see Clarke there, her jaw clenched and her eyes squeezed shut.

 _A Dementor,_ he thinks. _So this is what it feels like._

Ice is running through his veins. The cold burrows through his skin, settling into his bones, his blood…

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispers, her voice shaky. It sounds like the beginning of a sentence, but she isn’t able to finish it. Bellamy shuts his eyes and concentrates hard on the patch of warmth where their arms are pressed together, locking his mind onto it like an anchor.

Something tugs at the back of his memory, something he and Clarke had discussed.

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she whispers again, more urgent this time. “Patronus…”

Bellamy’s eyes shoot open. _The Patronus charm._

Without hesitating, he summons all his strength and grabs Clarke’s right hand, linking their fingers and squeezing as hard as he can. She squeezes back, albeit a little weakly. He meets her gaze, determined, focusing on her. “Together.”

Slowly, as if it takes great effort, Clarke nods. “Together.”

The Dementor is advancing; a giant, hooded figure that makes Bellamy’s skin crawl to look at, but they can’t waste any more time. Bellamy shuts his eyes, clutching Clarke’s hand, and forces himself to think of his friends. Miller and Raven ribbing him endlessly, Jasper and Monty pulling pranks, Wells offering sage advice and comfort. He thinks of Octavia; he pictures her face and hears her voice and a wave of strength surges through him.

Clarke’s fingers tighten around his, and his mind turns to her. He thinks of her laugh, her voice when she’s teasing him, her nose scrunching up when she concentrates, the mole above her lip. He thinks of all the times she proved him wrong when he thought she was stuck up. He thinks of the smell of Amortentia.

At the exact same time, both Bellamy and Clarke surge forward and thrust out their wands. Together, their voices ring out among the trees. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

A silvery-gray mist emerges from the tip of both their wands and take the form of animals, a wolf bounding out of Bellamy’s and a cougar from Clarke’s. Leaping and twisting around one another, the Patronuses surround the Dementor, chasing it back into the darkness until it can’t be seen any longer.

Slowly the icy feeling leaves Bellamy’s body, warmth flooding back in, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The two Patronuses come ambling back toward Bellamy and Clarke, lingering in front of them for a moment before both of them vanish together.

Clarke’s fingers are still linked through his, squeezing so hard that both their knuckles are white. Bellamy turns to face her, her eyes locking onto his immediately. His mouth drops open to say something.

“ _Bellamy! Clarke!”_

Two figures come crashing through the forest, sprinting toward them. The colour drains from Bellamy’s face. “Octavia!”

“Jasper!” Clarke cries, and together they run toward the two Gryffindors, all four of them collapsing into one another in a giant hug. They’re all shouting and laughing and even crying on Jasper’s end, shouts of “you’re alive!” and “I can’t believe it!”

Octavia pulls Bellamy a little away from the other two and throws her arms around his neck, holding on tight. “I’m so sorry, Bell! But we found out the truth!”

A reprimand is on the tip of his tongue, but the relief at seeing her alive and well easily trumps it. “Tell us in the morning. I’ve had enough intrigue for one night.”

“Octavia!” Jasper barrels in and tackles her with a massive bear hug, tearing her away from Bellamy. “I can’t believe we survived that!”

Octavia laughs and hugs him back. Bellamy watches the two of them fondly for a brief moment before turning his eyes over to Clarke.

A tiny smile is playing across her lips, and it grows wider when he meets her eyes. Before he really thinks about it, his feet are carrying him over to her.

She watches as he approaches, her smile growing more and more the closer he gets. “You know, I don’t think I could have taken on that Dementor without you.”

“I know.” He’s almost to her. “Me neither.”

“I guess I sh—”

Bellamy doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He walks right up to her without stopping, cups her face gently, and kisses her.

She kisses back almost immediately, clutching the collar of his shirt and drawing him closer. His hands drop to her waist, wrapping around her back, and he feels her fingers reach up behind his head and tangle in his curls.

“Finally,” Octavia huffs, somewhere behind them, her voice petulant, but Bellamy can’t find it in himself to care.

He pulls away for air, resting his forehead against Clarke’s, their noses rubbing together. The smile on her face is almost enough to drive away a Dementor on its own, and he’s sure that his is just as bright.

“Took you long enough,” she says, breathless, bright-eyed, and red-cheeked, and everything inside him just lights up.

They somehow manage to sneak back in to their rooms without being found, which is a miracle, and the next morning Octavia and Jasper explain to everyone what they heard from a terrified convict that they came across in the forest: the Dementors were set loose from Azkaban by a criminal who was posing as a guard, in an attempt to break out his partner in crime, who was said convict.

After hearing this, Octavia apparently Stunned him, and they dragged him to the Shrieking Shack where they locked him up. They report all this to Kane, who thankfully doesn’t ask where they got the information, and the loose Dementors are taken care of.

As soon as the story is over, Miller immediately turns his attention to more pressing matters. “So Bellamy and Clarke finally got together?”

They haven’t exactly been subtle, Bellamy has to admit. Everyone can definitely tell that they’re holding hands under the table. “Yeah, we did,” he answers, trying to put a hold on his grin.

The table explodes, people yelling about how they knew it all along, Jasper and Monty chanting “Bellarke!” over and over again, and Wells demanding money from Raven, gloating about winning some kind of bet.

Clarke’s eyes meet Bellamy’s and the rest of the table fades away for a moment. “We’re never going to live this down,” she says with a smirk.

Bellamy loops an arm around her waist and tugs her in toward him, pressing his lips against her temple. “No,” he agrees, smiling into her hair. “We’re not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave behind a comment or kudos if you liked it. Also, come hang out with me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nefarioustortellini)!


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